I Used To Believe In Fairies
by pokeitlikejello
Summary: A Cristina fic delving into her past to uncover some of things that caused her to become the person that she is today.
1. The Swift Unchanging

**This is a Cristina fic very much mirroring the format of my previous Meredith fic, I Only Scream In My Sleep****, which contains both present and past. Hope you enjoy it and just for the record, I do not own any of the characters.**

* * *

Cristina was quite certain that the blurriness in her vision was caused by extreme fatigue. As she made her way through the nearly empty hallway of the hospital, she prayed that she would stumble upon a coffee machine. Even though Cristina knew the hospital's coffee was quite terrible, at the moment, any coffee was good coffee.

"Cristina."

She spun quickly on her heel and squinted in the direction of the familiar female voice. Miranda stood at the end of the hall, a chart in one hand and a half eaten granola bar in the other. Miranda started down the hallway towards Cristina.

"What are you still doing here, Yang?" Miranda asked, tucking the granola bar in her pocket before closing the chart she was holding.

"I'm scrubbing in on a surgery tomorrow with Dr. Shepherd and I wanted to research a few things." Cristina answered briskly.

"You've been at this hospital for almost sixty hours in the past three days." Miranda pointed out, "If you're not out of this hospital in ten minutes, you won't be scrubbing in on any surgeries tomorrow."

"But Dr. Bailey-." Cristina's eyebrows drew together.

Miranda held up a hand, stopping Cristina and speaking with emphasis, "None of my interns are going to be making mistakes because of their inability to go home. Goodnight, Yang."

"Goodnight, Dr. Bailey." Cristina muttered, looking away from Miranda before heading to the elevators.

Cristina pushed the circular down button repeatedly until it lit up. She folded her arms across her chest, quite annoyed that Miranda had sent her home.

'This is completely unfair.' Cristina thought bitterly, '_She's_ still here. I don't understand why it's such a problem to want to work.'

The elevator doors slid open and Cristina stepped into the empty elevator. She sighed as it took her down. Once the doors opened again, Cristina made her way to the locker room. It was empty and dark so Cristina flicked on the light. She opened her locker, which was a complete mess. She ignored it as she slid off her lab coat, hung it on the metal hook and picked up her purse.

Deciding not to waste the time to change out of her scrubs, Cristina shut her locker door and headed out the locker room, flicking the light off as she went. She walked through the hallway briskly, keeping her head held high and ignoring most people she passed. Since she had been dismissed from the hospital all she could think about was returning to her apartment and collapsing onto her bed.

As soon as Cristina slid through the automatic doors, she was hit with the coolness of the May air. She thought she could smell rain, but she noted the ground was dry. She stopped walking when she heard her cell phone ringing. Cristina dug through her purse and pulled out her phone, answering it quickly.

"Hello?" Cristina asked, almost dropping her purse and its contents on the sidewalk.

"Cristina, hey, are you at the hospital?" Meredith's voice came through the phone.

"Yeah." Cristina answered, too tired to ask why.

"Could you give me a ride to my house?" Meredith asked, "I'm leaving the hospital now."

"Yeah." Cristina replied, "I'm standing just outside the doors. I'll wait."

"Thanks so much." Meredith sounded grateful, "I'll be right out."

Cristina hung up her cell phone and placed it back into her purse. She slung her purse over her shoulder and turned towards the hospital's entrance. She realized just how much her feet were aching after having been on them for more hours than she could remember. After a minute had gone by, Meredith emerged from the hospital, dressed in her regular clothes.

"It's been a crazy night." Meredith commented as she strode alongside Cristina, heading for Cristina's car, "I volunteered to stay late because someone called off. I'm glad you were still here. I carpooled with Izzie and totally forgot until she was already gone and I really didn't want to call a cab. I mean, I only left because Bailey saw me and told me to go home. She walked away mumbling something about how her interns never sleep, so I thought you might be here too."

Cristina and Meredith were now at the car. Cristina got in the driver's side while Meredith slid into the passenger side. Silence remained in the car as Cristina pulled out and drove in the direction of Meredith's house.

"Everything okay?" Meredith asked, suddenly concerned for her friend who had not said a word since the two had been face to face.

"Yeah. Great." Cristina answered in the fake cheeriness she couldn't stand using and Meredith easily detected as false.

"You've been working a lot these past couple of days." Meredith pointed out, knowing she couldn't outright accuse Cristina of lying about her current well being. Meredith knew she had to take her time in getting the truth out.

"I like surgery." Cristina told her, knowing full well Meredith was suspicious, but Cristina was too tired to give a damn.

Meredith gave the conversation a break, allowing Cristina some time to think. However, Cristina was focused on the road and not falling asleep at the wheel. It was a better alternative than thinking about the thing that was actually bothering her. Before long Cristina pulled up to the Grey residence. Meredith waited for Cristina to look at her before speaking.

"You sure you're okay?" Meredith looked Cristina in the eyes.

Cristina felt herself crack, but not break and as she sucked in a deep breath, she strengthened herself enough to answer, "Yes, Meredith. I'm fine."

"Okay." Meredith returned, disbelieving, but letting it slide. She clutched onto her bag and exited the car. She gave Cristina a wave before heading up the stairs to her front door.

Cristina waited until Meredith was inside before driving to her own apartment. She sped most of the way home, considering there weren't as many cars out as usual at such a late hour and because she was severely tired. She was relieved when she spotted her apartment building and quickly found a place to park.

With a sharp thrust, Cristina opened her apartment door, which sometimes had the tendency to stick. She dropped her purse on the floor and made sure she locked the door behind her. She walked towards her bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went. Cristina did not bother to turn on the light as she entered the room. She simply made sure her alarm was set and then collapsed onto her bed, hoping sleep would come to her quickly.

* * *

Cristina wrapped her arms around her knees. She bit her bottom lip in anticipation. She moved her head slightly, attempting to see through the small slit between the two closet doors. Cristina was currently sitting in darkness, her head just barely touching the bottoms of coats hanging in the closet. A shadow passed across the slit of light and Cristina tightened the grasp of her arms.

The doors to the closet flew open and Cristina shrieked in surprise, which quickly turned into a mess of giggles. Tom Yang laughed as well as he helped to pull his nine year old daughter out of the closet.

"Found you!" Tom exclaimed with great enthusiasm.

"Now, we have to find Amy!" Cristina exclaimed and ran from her bedroom, her two long braids bouncing on the back of her Mickey Mouse tee shirt.

Cristina ran down the flight of stairs followed by her father. Cristina stopped in the hallway, looking around at her choice of living room, kitchen, or study.

"Where do you think she is?" Cristina whispered loudly to her father, her brown eyes staring up at him.

Tom leaned down and pointed into the kitchen in the direction of the table. Cristina smiled as she noticed the two small hands and blue jeans that peeked out from under the tablecloth. Cristina smiled at her father, one of her teeth missing from the top row.

Following his daughter's lead, Tom crept into the kitchen and stood alongside the table. Cristina grabbed the tablecloth and whipped it up.

"Gotcha!" she exclaimed and laughed.

Amy, a fellow classmate and best friend of Cristina's, began to laugh and crawled out from underneath the table. She stood to her feet and straightened her Alvin and the Chipmunks tee shirt. Amy poked Cristina in the chest.

"You're turn to count now." Amy said with a teasing air because no kid ever liked to be it.

Cristina shook her head, putting on the same air, "I don't mind. I like counting."

Cristina stuck out her tongue, causing Amy to giggle. Tom checked the clock hanging above the kitchen sink and frowned.

"I think that's going to be it for today, girls." Tom spoke up, "It's time to take you home, Amy."

"Awwwww..." both girls whined together.

Tom smirked, "I know, I know, but this one's-," Tom tapped Cristina's head, "-mother will be home soon with dinner and she needs to do her homework."

The girls groaned again when Tom mentioned homework. Tom chuckled and ushered Cristina and Amy into the hallway. He picked up the E.T. backpack belonging to Amy and handed it to her. She placed her arms through the straps.

"How about we play Monopoly tomorrow after school?" Tom suggested, trying to brighten the mood.

"Okay!" Christina and Amy agreed in unison. They nodded, Cristina's dark braids sliding up and down while Amy's golden curls bounced.

Tom picked up his car keys from a bowl on the table and opened the front door. Amy walked out first, followed by Tom, and Cristina left slightly delayed after looking to find a marble she had dropped after pulling it from her pocket. After shutting the door behind her, Cristina turned the knob, making sure it was locked. With a slight smile, Cristina headed to the car, not knowing this was going to be the last time she ever rode in a car with her father again.


	2. A False Spot

A buzzing screamed through Cristina's subconscious and brought her back into the waking world. She squinted against the brightness of her bedroom as she reached out and shut off her alarm clock. Flopping her head back on the pillow, Cristina was regretting her decision to stay late at the hospital and forfeiting her sleep once again.

Sighing, Cristina pushed the covers off of herself and climbed out of bed. She trudged to a chair with a pile of clothes strewn on top and grabbed a long sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. Eyes half closed, she made her way to a pile of lingerie and pulled out clean undergarments.

Cristina slowly made her way to the bathroom, showered, and changed. After she finished blow drying her hair, Cristina walked to the kitchen and made coffee, hoping it would wake her up more. As the coffee brewed, Cristina walked to her apartment door, opened it, and picked up the paper off the floor. She glanced at the date at the top and threw the paper on the counter as she walked back into the kitchen.

Cristina checked the time, realized that she had to leave within the next two minutes, and packed up her coffee to go. She grabbed her jacket and purse, and was out the door in a flash.

* * *

Cristina fell into place alongside Meredith and in front of Izzie, George, and Alex as they followed Miranda down the hall. Cristina had made a point to avoid them in the locker room, claiming she had research to do and hurried out after she had changed.

"How did the research go?" Meredith asked in a lowered voice.

"Fine." Cristina answered in the same tone.

George leaned forward, "I guess I should come in earlier to get the best assignments like Cristina."

"It's not about being early." Cristina retorted, "It's about being the best."

"Which you... are." George replied, awkwardly before backing into place alongside Izzie.

"The best, my ass." Alex spoke up, "Yang gets the best surgeries because she never leaves. Of course you'll get the cream of crop when you're the first one to report."

Cristina glared back at Alex, who shrugged whiled giving his 'you know I'm right' look. Miranda stopped at a nurse's station and picked up a stack of charts.

"That's enough, Karev." Miranda said as she faced her interns. Miranda held her gaze on Alex, "Why don't you find Dr. Montgomery Shepherd, Dr. Karev. Your hers today."

"Oh, joy." Alex muttered as he headed off in the path that would take him to the NICU.

"If you don't like it, you can go home." Miranda called after him before turning her attention to George, "Dr. O'Malley, Dr. Burke has a surgery he wants you to scrub in on. Grey and Stevens, you are in the pit for the morning. Yang, you're with me."

George spotted Dr. Burke down the hallway and hurried to catch up. Meredith glanced at Cristina before accompanying Izzie to the emergency room.

"Dr. Bailey," Cristina spoke hurriedly, "I'm suppose to be scrubbing in with Dr. Shepherd."

"You will be making rounds with me, Dr. Yang." Miranda led the way, charts still in hand, "If you're on your toes, you'll be scrubbing in with Dr. Shepherd within the hour."

Cristina followed Miranda down the hall, "I assure you, Dr. Bailey, I am on the top of my game. The surgery will begin without me if I make rounds and I will miss some of the most crucial parts to the surgery."

Miranda stopped and faced Cristina, whose face was worried and anxious.

"Cystic Fibrosis is cause by a mutation of which chromosome?" Dr. Bailey asked, hugging the charts to her chest.

"Seven." Cristina answered in an instant.

"What are the most commonly used medications to treat seizures?" Dr. Bailey offered a second question.

"Dilantin and Phenobarbital." Cristina gave a nod.

"What is Munchausen Syndrome?" Dr. Bailey shifted her weight.

"A condition in which a person appears and acts as if they are sick or diseased when in reality, they are causing the problems on themselves." Cristina spoke so rapidly, her words were nearly indistinguishable from each other.

"Go, Yang." Miranda commanded with a wave of her hand.

Cristina took off down the hall, heading towards the operating room.

* * *

Cristina was staring straight ahead through the windshield. It was too bright for her liking which made her want to remain in the car, but she knew she had to get out because she couldn't be sure of when she would get the chance to return. The thought of not returning caused a pit to form in Cristina's stomach, resulting in slight nausea.

"Are you ready?" Helen, Cristina's mother, tried to be gentle as she spoke, a feat she had not yet mastered.

Cristina turned her head towards her mother, her dark, thick ponytail bouncing. She was quite certain she would never in her life be ready. Two years had gone by since her father's death and she was never ready to visit. She always tried to stall or simply chose to remain in the car. When others questioned her as to why she never wanted to visit her father's grave, Cristina merely fell silent. She couldn't tell them that every time she saw his name on the headstone, her mind would fill with the gruesome images of the fatal accident.

"We don't have all day, Cristina." the twinge of annoyance in Helen's voice stung a little.

Cristina reluctantly pulled the car handle and popped open the door. Helen followed her daughter's lead and stepped out of the car as well. The two weaved their way through the headstones until they came upon the familiar one. Ignoring the name, Cristina glanced at the date, noting the 'M' in May had bird poop on it. Cristina didn't stay at the grave long enough to say something or say a prayer like her mother always did.

Looking out over the rows and rows of headstones, Cristina pondered how each person buried beneath them passed away. She figured most of them had died peacefully in the sleep after a long life. The rest, she deduced, suffered painfully like her father. Cristina stopped walking at a small plaque at her feet. It was for a baby.

"Cristina." Helen's voice interrupted Cristina's thoughts.

Cristina looked up to see her mother striding over towards her. Helen brushed hair out of Cristina's eyes and took her arm, leading her in the direction of the car. They reached the car in silence. Once they were both inside, Helen started the car and began to drive home.

"It's not fair." Cristina said, looking out the passenger side window.

"What isn't fair?" Helen replied, glancing over at her daughter.

Cristina folded her arms across her chest, "I don't want to go. It's not fair that I have to leave. It's not fair that I have to say goodbye to Daddy again."

Helen was silent. Cristina wasn't sure what her mother was thinking, but she knew she brought up a tender spot. Cristina knew what to say to bring reactions out of her mother. She just wasn't sure which reactions would appear.

"Cristina..." Helen trailed off with a quiet sigh, "I talked with your therapist. He thinks it's a good idea to move you away from here. He thinks it will help you cope with all you have been through. He hopes it will help you talk about it."

"I don't want to talk about it." Cristina replied, staring at her mother, "And I don't want to move."

"Cristina, I am doing what's best for you and this family." Helen's tone became quite stern, "Saul has a lovely home and a bedroom in that home just for you. He cares about you."

"I know." Cristina said quietly.

"It'll get better." Helen replied as she pulled up behind a moving van parked in front of their home, "We'll start over. We'll go to the synagogue with Saul on Saturdays, you'll make new friends in a new school, and it will get better."

Cristina nodded, but all she could think about was how much she didn't want to start over. It was hard enough having to start a new life without a father when he had passed away, but this new life was one her mother was making her participate in when Cristina had just been getting used to the life without her dad. Cristina realized there were many things she wanted to say to her mother, but she remained silent, pulling into herself and shutting everything else out.


	3. Test of Wills

Cristina trudged into the locker room, pulling off the surgical cap she had forgotten was on top of her head. A few wisps of curly dark hair fell into her eyes. She brushed them aside as she made her way to her locker. Meredith was lying on the bench, legs hanging over the edge. She glanced at Cristina from her position.

"How was surgery?"

"He didn't make it." Cristina answered, realizing a lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it hard and silently commanded herself to stop thinking.

"I'm sorry." Meredith replied.

"It's... fine." Cristina opened her locker and threw her cap in it. She reached for a bottle of water and took a swig as she turned around, facing Meredith, "He didn't have a very good chance going in."

The locker room door flung open. Alex stormed in, whipping his lab coat towards the bench, causing it to land half on the bench and half on Meredith. Meredith sat up and glared at Alex.

"What's your problem, Diablo?" Cristina raised an eyebrow.

"Dr. Montgomery Shepherd." Alex answered with much disdain, "She sent me to make rounds and babysit while she performed a genetic surgery on a fetus still in the womb! I would kill to have been there."

"Maybe she thought it was too complicated for you." Cristina said, plainly.

Meredith looked at Cristina, wondering if it was best to spur on Alex.

"Yeah, well I heard your surgery didn't go over too hot." Alex retorted, glaring.

Cristina smoothed her hands onto her hips, "At least I was invited."

Meredith stood up as Alex stepped towards Cristina, "Okay, you two. Cool it. There's no need to be killing each other. We're all interns, we're all going through this. And now I sound like Izzie."

"He's the competition." Cristina replied.

"As are you." Alex shook his head, "How did you become so arrogant, Yang?"

"One to talk, Karev." Cristina narrowed her eyes.

"Enough." Meredith stood between them.

Alex held Cristina's gaze before reaching down alongside Meredith and picking up his lab coat. He put it on quickly as he left the locker room. Once Alex was out the door, Cristina turned to her locker and set her water bottle back inside. Meredith faced Cristina.

"What was that about?" Meredith's eyebrows were drawn together.

"What?" Cristina looked at Meredith, innocently.

"You've been acting weird lately." Meredith stated, "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Cristina answered, pulling out her lab coat and putting it on, "I'm working."

Cristina slammed her locker shut. She moved past Meredith and headed out of the locker room, passing Izzie on the way in. Izzie looked at Meredith, confused.

"What's with her?" Izzie asked, "She looked pissed."

Meredith shrugged, "I don't know."

"She's always on the run." Izzie said as she crossed toward her locker, "Top of the class and knows every answer like she has something to prove."

* * *

Cristina walked slowly down the stairs. She turned at the bottom of the staircase, made her way down the hallway and entered the kitchen. Her mother didn't cook and her step father was already at work, but a box of cereal was set on the kitchen table. Cristina's mother was in the fridge, pulling out the milk. Helen turned around and stopped when she saw Cristina.

"You look nice for your first day." Helen nodded, approving.

Cristina made her way to the kitchen table. She sat down and picked up the cereal, pouring in the bowl in front of her. Helen poured the milk into the cereal bowl before returning to her own spot at the table where she was reading the paper. Cristina stared at her cereal, listening to the 'snap, crackle, pop.'

After a few minutes, Helen looked up at her daughter, "You have to eat breakfast, Cristina. It's the most important meal of the day."

"You don't eat breakfast." Cristina watched her mother's reaction change to annoyance, "Saul doesn't eat breakfast."

"I drink tea." Helen replied, "And Saul has coffee. Children need food."

"I want coffee." Cristina pouted.

"Eleven year olds do not drink coffee." Helen sighed, "Eat your cereal."

The tone in her mother's voice made Cristina aware of the fact that the conversation was over. She stirred her soggy cereal in the bowl, staring at it. Helen stood from the table and set her coffee mug in the sink.

"I'm going to turn the car on." Helen told her daughter, "It's unusually cold today. Finish your cereal."

Once Helen was out the door, Cristina picked up her cereal bowl and hurried to the sink, dumping the contents down the drain. She set the bowl in the sink and picked up a coffee mug off of a hook above the kitchen counter. Cristina lifted the coffee pot from its burner and poured the dark liquid into her mug. She added some sugar like Saul always did and took a sip.

Wincing against the taste, Cristina drank the coffee quickly, wanting to prove she was not a child and burning her throat in the process. Once she had finished, she rinsed the mug and set it back on the hook. She felt warm and her face was flushed, due to the quick downing of such a hot liquid. She wiped her upper lip with her sleeve and left the kitchen.

Helen walked back into the house, rubbing her cold hands together. Cristina made her way to the staircase, passing her mother.

"Get your backpack and your jacket." Helen commanded her daughter.

Halfway up the stairs, Cristina stopped and faced her mother, "What if the other kids don't like me, Mom?"

"Is there any reason they shouldn't like you, Cristina?" Helen asked.

Cristina thought a moment, "I guess not."

"Then, get going." Helen said, a softness in her voice, "Or you're going to be late."

* * *

There was ten minutes left to recess. The day had warmed up reasonably, most children able to leave there jackets and coats inside. Cristina stood in a line up with other children waiting to get one last game of dodge ball in. She didn't like the game, but hoped attempting to participate might make her some friends.

As the teams were being chosen, child after child was placed with one team or another. As the numbers dwindled, Cristina wasn't feeling well. She was left among three other scrawny kids much like herself. It didn't quite surprise Cristina when she was the last child left to be picked. She concluded that she wasn't really even chosen to participate in the game, but rather was simply the last kid left that had to play because she showed up.

Once the recess bell rang, Cristina walked in alone after being the first kid out in the dodge ball game. She realized as she walked into the school that she wasn't good at making friends, that no one seemed to like her, and she needed a different approach to make herself satisfied.

Back in the classroom, the teacher began a lecture about earth science, most of the topics were familiar to Cristina because she had been taught them last year in her old school. As the teacher began to ask the students questions, Cristina raised her hand again and again, proving that she knew this information.

Suddenly, Cristina was beginning to feel a lot better about her day now that she was actively participating in class and answering every question correctly. It was that day that Cristina decided she would stop trying to make friends and instead, focus on her schoolwork. Cristina was certain it was better to have the teacher's approval and be right rather than be occupied with being picked last by her fellow peers.


	4. Forever Yours

**This is the last part of the fic. Thank you for reading and reviewing!  
**

* * *

Cristina sat on the bench in the locker room, arms extended, hands entwined in each other. Her head was lowered towards the floor. The locker room door creaked. Cristina blinked slowly.

"You okay?" Meredith's voice cut through the darkness.

Cristina reached into the shirt pocket of her scrubs and pulled out a slip of newspaper. She set it down on the bench. Meredith walked over to the bench and picked up the scrap of paper. She read it over and sat down next to her friend.

"Today was the day he died?" Meredith asked, gently.

Cristina reached up and squeezed the bridge of her nose, attempting not to cry while she nodded.

"You don't have to do that." Meredith placed a gentle hand on Cristina's back, "You don't have to bottle it all up inside, Cristina. I know your Dad's death was a very... scary thing for you. You don't have to hide from it."

Cristina shook her head and stood, snatching her father's obituary from Meredith's fingers. Cristina placed it back inside her pocket, put her hands on her hips, and began pacing. She was shaking her head, her face pale, and Meredith watched, helplessly.

"I wish I could just forget." Cristina said, her voice increasing as she paced, "Every year this date comes. I don't care that he's dead-"

"Christina..." Meredith looked at her friend, her eyes emitting such sympathy.

"I don't, Mer." Cristina shook her head, "I've come to terms with the fact that he's gone and I can't change that. I know I won't ever have him back. But, I wish I could rid his dying body from my mind. Every year it comes back. I can't stop it. I can't get rid of it, though I _try_. No matter how much I work and fill my mind with everything but him, he's still there."

Cristina stopped pacing abruptly, her back to Meredith. Meredith debated moving, but remained on the edge of the bench.

"I wasn't always like this." Cristina spoke softly, not a tone she used very often, "I used to stretch a little. I climbed trees. I chased fireflies. I didn't always need to fill my mind."

"There wasn't anything you could have done-" Meredith started.

"I know!" Cristina cut Meredith off, harshly, facing her friend, tear streaks down her face, "I know that whatever I did that day wouldn't have made any difference, but do you think it's so easy, Meredith?" Cristina was silent, then spoke low, "I don't... blame myself. I've done everything one can do to deal with a death like my father's. But, I can't understand why I'm still seeing _him_."

"Christina, something this traumatic is going to scar you for life." Meredith said, watching Christina run her fingers through her hair, "It's not something you can just make go away... It just... doesn't."

Christina sighed, releasing something dark from deep within her. She trudged over to the bench and sat down next to Meredith, defeated. Meredith could see the exhaustion in Christina from her late nights and lack of sleep.

"I could pretend when I was with him." Christina's words were quiet yet harsh, angry at a father who had once coaxed her with make believe, "He would insist I could do anything. Our favorite game was surgeon. He would make up insane ailments and I always knew how to fix them. The accident was like one cruel joke on the game. It was real. My father was really bleeding out in front of me. He was crying out in _real_ pain. I stopped pretending and I stopped believing in anything that wasn't fact, anything that wasn't concrete and true."

"I stopped believing in a lot of things at a very young age, too." Meredith tried to give Cristina some reassurance to the fact that she wasn't alone.

Christina wiped any leftover tears from her face now that her eyes were dry. She stood and opened her locker. She pulled out her jacket and slipped it on. Meredith stood next to Cristina.

"Do you want me to walk out with you?" Meredith asked.

"No." Cristina answered and made her way for the door.

Meredith watched her go, but Christina stopped next to the door and turned.

"I know I'll never be able to get that image from my mind." Christina said, "I need it too much because I know it makes me a better surgeon. Anyone who sees their loved one like I saw my father deserves to see them again alive so they could forget the trauma and the near loss as if it never happened. Like a make believe game in the past."

Christina pulled the locker room door open and walked towards the exit, feeling slightly unnerved and thinking of her father.

* * *

Christina entered the living room, a notebook clutched to her chest. She sat down on the couch and sighed, loud enough to cause her mother and Saul to look up from the newspaper sections they were reading.

"Yes?" Helen asked, newspaper poised.

"I think I'm sick." Cristina said

Helen raised an eyebrows, looking over her daughter and then decided, "You're not sick."

Cristina knew she was going to get that answer, "Then, I don't want to go."

"It's your father, Christina." Saul pointed out as his eyes were on the article he was reading.

"And?" Christina asked, her teenage attitude coming through.

"It's been five years since he passed away." Helen said as if it was customary to be sure to visit the dead in five year increments. Cristina watched her mother silently mouth a small prayer.

"And next year, it'll be six." Cristina replied.

"Cristina." Helen warned, "I know you've been gloomy lately, but I think after you visit your father, you'll feel much better. You haven't been there since you were eleven."

"Because we moved here." Cristina pointed out, "And how would visiting a graveyard make me feel better, Mom?"

"Cristina, don't use that tone with your mother." Saul jumped into the conversation, though his eyes were still on the article.

Cristina rolled her eyes at Saul, "I'm not going."

"Well, we're not leaving a fourteen year old here alone." Saul replied.

Cristina softened her tone to one with more respect, "I wouldn't do anything that either of you would be ashamed of. I just feel uncomfortable going to Dad's grave. I'm sorry."

Helen's face changed to sympathetic, "Okay, Cristina. If you really don't want to go..."

"Thanks, Mom." Cristina stood up.

"I'm still going, however." Helen told her daughter, "Saul will stay here with you. But, if you change your mind by tomorrow, you are still welcome to come."

"Okay." Christina nodded before leaving the room.

Cristina climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She sat down on the bed, the notebook still in her hands. She opened it and flipped through it until she reached a blank page. She smiled and wrote down:

_Respect wins over using angry tones. Say what they want to hear to get what you want. Dad used to say that you can't win them all. I'm starting to think that maybe I can. I wish I could visit him, but it would make the nightmares worse. We're dissecting frogs in Bio on Wednesday. I wish I could tell Dad about it. He always loved when we played surgeon._

Cristina closed the notebook and slid it under her pillow. She stood and began to clean her bedroom, dusting where necessary and picking up her clothes. Over the next few hours, she would polish, wipe, disinfectant, organize, and rearrange her room in the apparent attempt to occupy her mind. She always needed to do this around the time of his death.

* * *

**Fin. **


End file.
